


Field Medicine

by AndrogynyZombie



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Blood, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Delirium, Drug Use, Drugs, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, M/M, Medical, Medical Procedures, Mild Blood, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Post-Canon, Recreational Drug Use, References to Drugs, Surgery, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 05:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16402076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndrogynyZombie/pseuds/AndrogynyZombie
Summary: Felix is still shot in the leg, even if they do have to sell their car, and blood isn't the most patient of the bodily fluids.Locus and Siris are saddled with fixing the problem before he bleeds out.Siris is a little too liberal with the anesthetic.A good time is had by all.(Takes place immediately after Season 14 Ep. 12: Consequences)





	Field Medicine

**Author's Note:**

> This was just an excuse to have some fun and write about a little field surgery on Felix!

The first thing Locus noticed when he came to was Siris’s voice, sounding distant from the front of the enormous armored car.

 

“Ortez.”

 

“Codenames,” he growled, already angry at himself for having fallen asleep. “What?”

 

“Do we really need to-“

 

“Yes, Siris. What?”

 

“Well, I was going to ask how the patient is doing, but apparently he was quiet enough for you to fall asleep. So…he’s either fine, or very bad?”

 

Locus shrugged to himself, glancing down to where Felix was slumped against his side, either asleep or unconscious. He was still gripping a mostly empty bottle of some kind of scotch or something in his hand- something he’d found rummaging around Lozano’s recently vacated vehicle.

 

“He’s been shot before,” Locus said, “He’ll live.”

 

Siris made a sound between dismissive and concerned. “If you say so. Get him out of the car, we’re here. Time to sell this thing and put a pin in the whole fucking mess.”

 

Locus shook Felix slightly, frowning at the bandana he’d tied around the gunshot wound- it was still shiny with fresh blood. Not enough pressure, Locus guessed. He’d live, but it wasn’t exactly ideal.

 

Felix flinched awake, brandishing the bottle like a knife against Locus’ chest. The smell of scotch joined the cloying smell of blood.

 

“Fuck, get off me!”

 

“Calm down,” Locus barked, “it’s me.”

 

“Hey,” Siris said, throwing the door open for them, “those stains are gonna come out of your cut.”

 

Locus pulled Felix out of the car despite his incoherent protests, wrapping his arm around Locus’ shoulder for balance. Siris winced at the puddle of blood that had gathered on the seat, although whether it was out of concern for Felix or the price they’d get for the car, Locus could only guess.

 

 _Felix, they could fix_ , Locus thought sourly. _Blood’s much harder to get out of upholstery._

 

“…Douche,” Felix murmured into Locus’ shoulder.

 

“Shut up.”

 

Siris took point, walking over to the car lot office that served as their arms dealer’s business front. The man swung out of the door with an easy stride, grinning behind a pair of oversized sunglasses.

 

“Good job answering your phone, asshole,” Felix shouted, sounding slurred. Locus jostled him and glared.

 

“Boys,” the man shouted, clapping a hand on Siris’ shoulder. “Felix, you’re looking great.”

 

Felix offered him a shaky middle finger.

 

“Hey Blake,” Siris said, gesturing to the car behind them. “We got something for you.”

 

Blake whistled. “Hoo boy, that is something. What is that, a custom job? Must be, must be.”

 

Blake circled the car in a slow arc, sweeping it up and down. He nodded in quiet approval. “Not too many people even in this city who could afford something like this.”

 

Siris and Locus glanced to each other warily. Locus sensed, rather than saw, the way Blake squinted as he moved from appraising the vehicle to the three of them with the slightest tilt of his head. Locus thumbed the pistol against his back as if to remind himself it was still there.

 

“Had my ear to the radio,” Blake said, his voice dropping from its easy ebullience. “Lot of crazy shit going on last night. Don’t suppose you’d mind telling me where you picked this up, eh?” He cut his eyes pointedly over to Felix. “Or where he got that?”

 

A tense moment stretched between them.

 

“C’mon Blake,” Siris said, forcing a hint of humor into his tone, “it’s a lot easier on you if you don’t know, right?”

 

Another silent beat passed that Blake broke with a sharp clapping, laughing long and hard at some private joke. Locus glanced to Felix, who was seething, albeit quietly for once. He probably didn’t have the energy to put up a fight.

 

“Fuck, relax,” Bradley chuckled, “I’ll take it, I’ll take it. It’s a damn fine car. I’ll even keep my mouth shut about it; 75k.”

 

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Felix said.

 

“Felix,” Locus warned.

 

“95k,” Siris said firmly.

 

Blake only shook his head.

 

“That’s bullshit Blake-“ Felix threw himself forward, faster than Locus could react. There was a shrill string of blended curses as Felix crumpled to ground, clawing uselessly at his leg.

 

Siris frowned as he watched Locus haul him up by the waist. “Should we be getting him to a hospital?”

 

Blake cut in before Locus could. “Hospital? Jeez, shit, kids, yeah go ahead. Not like the whole IPD is going to be on fire looking for whoever just executed what amounts to a small private military. I’m sure no one will be suspicious of you at all.”

 

“Okay, good point. I don’t suppose you know of anybody who can keep quiet?”

 

Blake shook his head. “Not unless you’re comfortable risking them turning you in the exact second they put two and two together.”

 

Locus grimaced. “85k, and throw in a medical supply kit. Military grade.”

 

Blake juggled his hands in mock indecision before turning sharply on his heel. “Alright, I can live with that. Hold up a sec.”

 

“Locs, you’ve got to be fucking with me,” Felix wheezed, grabbing Locus’ arm tightly.

 

Locus tried to look impassive. “It’s not like it’ll be the first time.”

 

“That is exactly my problem.”

 

“We don’t have any other options.”

 

Felix tried to gesture plaintively at Siris for backup, but only managed to slump against Locus’ shoulder.

 

Siris had the good grace to look commiserative. “He’s right; not seeing anything else for it. I’m sure Locus will be gentle.”

 

Felix groaned. “Have you even _met_ the guy?”

 

“I took the liberty of depositing the funds in your usual account,” Blake said, walking over to them in a leisurely fashion. He tossed a conspicuously red and white parcel to Siris, and swung around to shove a bottle of whiskey into Felix’s free hand. “That’s on the house. Gonna need it.”

 

“Thanks,” Felix said drily. Locus watched as he managed to pry the bottle open with just his teeth and take a long draught.

 

Locus snatched the bottle away. “Stop that. You’re going to go into hypovolemic shock.”

 

Siris watched as Felix swayed dangerously. “Well, I suppose we should get going then. Thanks again, Blake,”

 

Blake waved him off, beaming again. “Think nothing of it, compadre! I called a ride for you too, seeing as to how I’m taking possession of your car now.”

 

As if it had been waiting for this cue, an unremarkable red car pulled up, with one of the several hundred cab companies’ logos on it. Locus tapped his pistol one more time, seeing Siris do the same thing out of the corner of his eye, before he steered Felix into the backseat, letting him sprawl and lean heavily against Locus’ shoulder.

 

The driver glanced nervously into the rearview mirror. “Hey, is he bleedin’ on the seat back there?”

 

Locus leaned forward menacingly, twisting his expression into a silent snarl. “We’ll tip.”

 

The driver flinched and turned quickly back to the steering wheel as Siris dropped into the front. “Just take us to whatever the nearest motel is.”

 

The driver swallowed, gave the barest of nods, and peeled off.

 

—

 

Siris' face flitted into view from the front as the car slowed to a stop. Locus looked to him from where he’d been scrutinizing the unimpressive motel’s facade.

 

“Hm?”

 

Siris cocked an eyebrow. “I know we’ve all seen worse and shit, but…should we be more worried? He doesn’t look so good.”

 

“Aw, he does care,” Felix mumbled, not opening his eyes.

 

Locus stared down at Felix as if he’d just remembered the man was there. His brow furrowed conspicuously despite his dismissive grumble. Felix was paler than usual and still shivering underneath the extra suit coat Locus had draped around his narrow shoulders.

 

Locus pressed two fingers against Felix’s throat, more uncomfortable with the fact that he wasn’t being slapped away than with whatever Felix’s heart rate looked like.

 

“Maybe,” Locus conceded.

 

Siris sighed. “Probably wasn’t helpful that we had drive a whole hour to ditch the car. Maybe we should bring hemostats next time.”

 

“Felix likes having money more than blood,” Locus said, shouldering the door open. “We just have to get to work.”

 

Siris watched Locus grab Felix under the arms and swing him into a fireman’s carry. Felix sputtered some half-hearted string of curses and tried to kick at Locus.

 

He could never get comfortable with “jokes” out of Locus. At least he thought it was a joke; knowing Felix there was an outside chance it was an actual preference of his. Siris swiped the abandoned whiskey from the backseat before waving the car off.

 

“Might still need this,” he said to himself.

 

—

 

Locus followed Siris warily, waiting for his partner to clear the two rooms before even stepping over the threshold. Siris hadn’t seen the need for it, but Locus insisted, and Siris would rather humor him than deal with the paranoia that would almost certainly result otherwise.

 

“Clear,” Siris called back.

 

“Good. Would you clear off that desk?”

 

“The desk?” Siris glanced at the unoccupied bed.

 

Locus inclined an eyebrow. “We just managed to recoup the mission costs. I’m not going to pay for damaged linens.”

 

Siris looked mildly surprised.

 

Locus sighed. “It’s easier to sanitize?”

 

Siris snorted in amusement, pushing the flotsam off the desk in one motion. Locus stooped, dropping Felix to the desktop with a gentleness that belied his outward showing of indifference.

 

Maybe Locus scared Siris from time to time, but the man was riddled with so many obvious tells that it made it hard for him to stay intimidated. He wondered if Locus was miserable at poker or not.

 

Siris passed Locus the medkit and scuffed his prosthetic against the carpet idly. “What do you need?”

 

Locus unzipped the pack and picked up a set of scissors, glancing sideways at Siris as he set about cutting the fabric free of Felix’s bullet wound. “You’ll know when I need you.”

 

“Cryptic bullshit,” Felix drawled, running a hand listlessly through his hair.

 

Siris winced at the idea that Felix was still awake, as well as the sound of Locus snapping on a pair of nitrile gloves. The effect was vaguely chilling.

 

“We got any painkillers in there? Should we give him some?”

 

“Yes,” Felix hissed.

 

“Might drop his blood pressure,” Locus said noncommittally. He squeezed the bulb of an irrigation syringe, flooding the wound with saline until it began to puddle onto the floor.

 

Felix jolted halfway upright, fingers clawing the desk uselessly. “Ngh- FUCK OFF Locus, christ!”

 

“I’m gonna go ahead and say it’ll be worth it,” Siris said.

 

He rummaged in the medical kit at Locus’ elbow and produced a small orange bottle. He whistled a single low note. “Shit. Better thank Blake for this later, Felix. Don’t think _this_ shit comes standard.”

 

Felix managed to palm the pills through gritted teeth before Locus shoved a hand against his midsection to hold him flat. “Stop squirming.”

 

“Let’s just leave this one in,” Felix said, his voice too tight to pass for casual.

 

Felix’s eyes were locked on the scalpel in Locus’ hand, beside a bottle of medical-grade disinfectant.

 

“Don’t be stupid,” Locus said.

 

“S’not stupid,” Felix said, his words losing clarity, “already full o’ shrapnel. What’s one more-“

 

Felix’s voice dissolved into a hoarse cry as Locus sliced into the open wound, producing a fresh gout of blood. Felix torqued off the desk, trying to pull away and threatening to knock into Locus’ hands, or at least disturb his careful focus.

 

Locus glared at Siris. “Now.”

 

Siris darted over and pinned Felix down by the shoulders with a huff. “Could have just said you need me to hold him down.”

 

“The sick fuck wouldn’t be having as much fun that way,” Felix said.

 

Locus spared Felix a tired look before digging in again, drawing a second line crossways. “I promise you I enjoy none of this.”

 

Siris shot Felix a sympathetic grimace as he bit off another shout. “Hey, maybe it’s not a great idea to mouth off to the guy with a knife in you. Calm down.”

 

“Fuck both of you,” Felix gasped raggedly, “Cocksucking piece of motherfucking-“

 

His onslaught of curses transitioned roughly into another hoarse scream, one that made Siris nervous that the cops were going to come after all. He’d have to call the front desk and make something up about noisy drunks.

 

Siris looked away, examining one of the bland paintings on the hotel wall. He was neither willing to watch whatever mix of rage and pain was fluctuating across Felix’s face, nor did he much care to see whatever unsettling thing Locus was doing to make that metal-on-flesh noise that Felix’s pained breathing couldn’t drown out.

 

The screaming tapered off into a hyperventilating sob, weaker and weaker until, with another disgusting wet-metal sound, Felix was completely quiet. Siris lifted his hands off of Felix’s chest experimentally, relieved that he was at least no longer being fought.

 

Relieved, then concerned. The only thing more uncomfortable than seeing Felix in that particularly raw, vulnerable state was the alien sensation of feeling sympathy for him. Siris was certain that if Felix could catch even a snippet of these thoughts he’d punch Siris in the mouth.

 

He glanced up, curious about how Locus was taking this whole mess. Battlefield medics weren’t exactly a novelty for any of them, but still.

 

Locus’ face was drawn, his eyes squinting in what Siris would call the universal Locus-sign-language for concern. He looked down just in time to see Locus’ scalpel dislodge the warped metal slug from the now gaping wound.

 

“Eugh.”

 

Locus glanced over to him curiously.

 

Siris’ mouth quirked down. “Just because I’ve seen field medicine before doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

He made a tsk-ing sound in the back of his throat. “It’s weird seeing him like this. Creepy, almost.”

 

“I was just enjoying the brief silence,” Locus said.

 

The statement was punctuated by another metallic _clink_ as he fished out a chunk of shrapnel. Siris’ nose wrinkled and he looked away to consider the pair of beds in the middle of the room. He wished he’d had the foresight to get himself a separate room.

 

He tried to focus on that sour feeling of disappointment, because it was a lot better than letting his mind register the sounds of Locus working; distantly Siris recognized that he was cutting away dead flesh to prevent infection. Locus had clearly paid attention to the field medical manuals.

 

It was upsettingly similar to listening to his wife cut meat.

 

Felix cut into the unpleasant reverie with a low groan, head tilting back and forth like he was trying to wake up from a nightmare.

 

Locus glanced up. “I knew the silence would be brief.”

 

“Are you almost done?”

 

“Almost. The shot was clean; just hit muscle. Lucky.” Locus poured a liberal amount of disinfectant into the wound, puddling more fluid and fresh blood down onto the carpet. “I’m not half as good with shattered bones.”

 

Felix hissed, his eyes cracking open again. Siris cursed and slammed his hands back down onto Felix’s shoulders with more force than he intended, wincing when his head hit the desktop.

 

He could hear Felix muttering some kind of nonsense in his usual acidic tone, hands clenched into fists so hard they shook. Or maybe that was the rest of him shaking; Siris wasn’t sure.

 

Somehow, the anxiety he’d felt had transferred to Siris and all he could think was that he couldn’t calm down until Felix calmed down. He knew his nerves were just shot, but still…

 

“Man, he really shouldn’t have to be awake for this,” Siris said to himself.

 

He opened the pill bottle again as Locus threaded the wickedly curved needle with suture thread and propped Felix up, hastily feeding him another capsule with the heel of his palm.

 

Locus didn’t hesitate to pierce the needle into Felix’s skin. “Something tells me you aren’t really paying attention to the dosing instructions.”

 

“Fuck,” Felix breathed, drawing out the word like he’d forgotten how his mouth worked.

 

Looking at the slack expression and blown pupils, Siris wouldn’t be surprised if that was exactly the case.

 

“Fuck,” Siris echoed. “You think it’s important?”

 

He was expecting a dismissive snort, or a dry recitation of drug safety. Instead, Locus just chuckled. “Okay, how much extra did you just give him?”

 

Siris turned the bottle over in his hand, the other still braced against Felix’s collarbone, and scanned the label for the first time. He choked out a laugh that was equal parts amusement and horror.

 

“Oh, hell. A little over double?”

 

Locus paused halfway through his careful stitching, his shoulders shuddering in what Siris realized with a little shock was quiet laughter.

 

Siris laughed too then, either because fuck, it _was_ pretty funny, or even just the startling effect of seeing Locus laugh at all. It seemed to dispel some of the tension of the very long night behind them.

 

“Could you go grab some water?” Locus said, still amused. “I get the feeling you don’t have to worry about him moving too much.”

 

Felix’s fingers twitched anemically as Locus pulled another suture tight, his head lolling to the side before he went completely still again.

 

Siris took the opportunity to duck out of the room, stretching and yawning in the fresh air as he hunted down a vending machine. He sent Megan an apologetic text message along the way, only partially bullshitting something about Felix, an accident, and medical attention.

 

She knew Felix well enough to not really question it.

 

When he got back, balancing a few bottles of water in the crook of his arm, the copper smell of blood hit him again, and he wished for a second time that he had thought to get a separate room.

 

Locus had finished, winding the last bit of medical tape around the area.

 

“Thanks,” Locus said.

 

“How’s he doing?”

 

Locus lifted one of Felix’s slender wrists and let it go, hitting the tabletop like so much dead weight. “Like someone doped him with nearly three times as much Ketamine as medically advisable.”

 

Siris tried not to smile. “Yeah, well…at least you get that quiet you wanted, right? Timing’s perfect too- I’d like to sleep for at least a few hours. I take it we’re waiting until he’s awake again?”

 

Locus nodded, lifting Felix as though he barely weighed more than a bag of groceries. “I’d prefer not to move him too much. Feel free to get some rest.”

 

He moved him to the bed before pulling off Felix’s suit jacket and waistcoat, eventually undoing the tie at his throat. Siris blinked, throwing himself facedown onto the farthest bed and turned away, uncomfortable at the intimacy of the display.

 

He knew it wasn’t necessarily strange- just familiarity bred from constant proximity and the sort of camaraderie only soldiers ever really understood. It was just that Locus did everything with such an…uncomfortable intensity.

 

It was a strange quality Megan had commented on before, eyebrows raised, on the occasions that he’d dragged the two of them back to his home after some mission went pear shaped. He couldn’t always trust them to take care of themselves, like they were some kind of deadly efficient college kids.

 

She’d watched Locus hovering around Felix like an agitated guard-dog, because Felix was almost always the one to do the sort of reckless shit that got him hurt, and then later run into him apologetically cleaning up whatever blood or broken mess Felix had left in his wake.

 

Or, when she’d stumbled onto Felix passionately vowing to kill their cat for the crime of approaching Locus where he’d been nursing a bullet to the shoulder in Siris’ guest room.

 

“They’re so _weird_ with each other,” she’d whispered to him that night, and Siris had laughed so hard he was nearly in tears. “Are you sure they’re not like…?”

 

He wondered if even _they_ knew the answer to that.

 

—

 

Locus could admit that he did enjoy the quiet. He cleaned in an almost meditative fashion, trying to put the stress of the night behind him as he scrubbed the thin bloodstains from the carpet, wiped the desk with disinfectant, and carefully folded Felix’s clothes.

 

He had already piled blankets onto Felix as soon as he’d started miserably shivering, and well…if he’d stolen a terse moment to card his hand through Felix’s hair, Siris certainly wasn’t awake to give him that shrewd, piercing stare he tended to.

 

He hated it when Siris looked at him like that; like he was privy to some kind of secret that Locus wasn’t. The one thing Locus tried to guarantee himself at all times was that he was completely in control of himself. Siris' silent probing never failed to make him question that.

 

It was just fascinating, he told himself, to see Felix subdued for once. All of that abrasive, domineering force of will, rendered totally helpless by enough tranquilizer to bring down a small horse.

 

It wasn’t the first time Felix had been forced to entrust his wellbeing to Locus, but it was certainly ranking among the quietest and least tense. They didn’t always have painkillers on hand.

 

Locus sighed and smoothed Felix’s hair back down. Their equipment case was on the desk; he might have enough time to disassemble and clean everything by the time the other two woke up.

 

As if Locus’ thoughts had been too loud, Siris crouched up from where he’d been slumped on the bed, blinking in annoyance at Locus.

 

“Locus.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Get some sleep.”

 

“One of us has to stay on watch.”

 

“On watch- Locus, it’s a hotel, for fuck’s sake. What are you on watch for?“

 

Locus arched an eyebrow at him primly. “We just executed one of the most powerful crime lords in the city, and over 20 of his professional body guards. Retaliation is a real possibility.”

 

“You know you’d wake up if anything happened, anyway,” Siris sighed. “Besides, you’ve got hours before you have to get back to dealing with Felix until he’s literally back on his feet. If I were you, I’d want to get as much rest as I could before putting up with that.”

 

Locus squinted and gave a long-suffering sigh.

 

Siris turned back over and was almost immediately back asleep. He knew the threat would work, and now Locus was somewhat begrudgingly curled up on the bed beside Felix, blanketing himself with his suit jacket.

 

He tapped the pistol he’d placed by his head, reassuring himself that it would be there if he needed it. Despite his protests, he was actually pretty confident he wouldn’t.

 

At least Felix wasn’t complaining.

 

—

 

Felix woke him. It was well after 3PM when Locus checked the time, and Siris was still fast asleep across the room.

 

“The fuck,” Felix said thickly, somewhere behind Locus.

 

Locus shot up, drawing his pistol and turning about the room in search of some unseen threat.

 

“Wh-where the fuck am I?” Felix slurred, eyes unfocused in the sharp midday light that slanted through the room’s drawn blinds.

 

He stared, unrecognizing, at the pistol Locus had leveled at the room, mouthing a series of vowels in a questioning tone. Locus wasn’t sure he understood the gun for what it was- his pupils were still blown, flickering from the gun to Locus and back again as if he were wary of being tricked somehow.

 

Usually if Felix woke to Locus pulling a gun on him, he’d just slap it out of his hands and tell him to knock it the hell off.

 

“Don’t think I’m s’posed to be here,” Felix said, running his hands over his face experimentally. He held them out, turning his hands over as if he’d just noticed they were there.

 

“You’re fine,” Locus grumbled, pushing his hair back from his eyes. He regretted untying it before he’d fallen asleep.

 

Siris sat up again, blinking in annoyance as Locus tried to gently pivot Felix back down onto the bed.

 

“What the fuck- who are you?” Felix’s voice came unsteady, like he was relearning all the words. He flinched away from Locus with bared teeth.

 

Siris balked visibly. “Locus is he…what’s happening? Is he fucking with you right now?”

 

Locus drew his hands back guiltily, shaking his head. “Medication must be wearing off, but he’s still…confused, I guess. Temporary amnesia.”

 

The abrupt way Felix had pulled away left him unsteady, scuttling back until he threatened to topple off the bed, and Locus noted bitterly, risked landing on his injured leg. His arm shot out just in time, hauling Felix back onto the bed until he was almost sprawled across Locus’ lap.

 

Felix didn’t immediately fight him off, instead his limbs slackened a bit and he seemed to reconsider his surroundings. Just like that, the momentary panic had abated. Locus figured he’d actually forgotten it had happened.

 

Locus tried to set Felix back upright, catching Felix looking up at him with an expression he couldn’t quite define. Curiosity, maybe?

 

“Jesus Christ,” Felix breathed, “aren’t you pretty?”

 

Locus froze, feeling almost as if he were beyond movement when Felix’s hand traced the tip of one of his scars, his hand losing the strength to stay aloft right around the bridge of Locus’ nose. Felix’s face was tight with an expression of consternation, like he were trying to figure out how to smooth the scars out.

 

He was grateful that flushing didn’t show up very easily on his face when Siris broke into a harsh, wheezing fit of hysterics. Snapped out of the reverie, Locus lifted Felix as if he were a petulant child and just about threw the covers over him.

 

“That’s enough,” Locus growled, “lie down.”

 

Siris rested his chin against his hand, grinning. “He doesn’t even know who you are, Locs! How do you expect him to just listen to you telling him what to do? Unless he likes taking orders from pretty strangers.”

 

Locus rolled his eyes, teeth clenched. He grabbed Felix by the shoulders and tried to level him with an authoritative glare. “I’m Locus, your partner. You,” he said, prodding Felix in the chest, “are Felix. And you should be sleeping.”

 

Felix’s eyes narrowed, a hint of the familiar smirk pulling at his mouth. “Partner?”

 

“Not like-“ Locus didn’t even get the first syllable out before Siris fell into helpless laughter again.

 

“You know Locus, I know we just got fucked on the worst mission of all time? But I think this might be the best day of my life.”

 

“You’re not helping,” Locus said.

 

Felix’s attention had drifted away again, his shoulders slumped into a kind of drug-induced torpor. Locus took advantage of the distraction to face pointedly away from Siris and force Felix back into laying still.

 

“You’ve been drugged,” Locus said, holding him a moment longer for emphasis. “You need to sleep this off.”

 

He didn’t know why he was still trying to reason with him; Felix gave absolutely no outward sign that he’d even heard the words, much less understood them. Locus froze a second time when Felix merely reached up and ran a hand through Locus’ hair.

 

Locus threw himself onto his side of the bed with as loud a huff as he could, feeling his face burning. “I am done dealing with him, Siris.”

 

“Alright, alright, sorry,” Siris said, stifling laughter. “I’ll take Felix duty for a while.”

 

Locus listened, still simmering, as Siris said something low and nonsensical to Felix in an attempt to get him to drink some water. He’d forgotten about that and was briefly grateful to Siris.

 

Was, until he heard him mutter, “Aw, you don’t think I’m pretty too, Felix?”

 

Locus wished, briefly, that Lozano had killed him back at the quarry.

 

—

 

Sleep did not spare Locus any further indignity, however. He woke to what must have been Siris packing up their supplies. The other thing that slowly became apparent was that something heavy was draped across his chest and the crook of his neck.

 

Reality dawned on him in a moment of cold horror at about the same time he heard Siris chuckle. “Morning, Or, evening I guess. Seems you slept comfortably?”

 

Locus slowly, carefully moved to peel Felix’s arms from around his torso. There were few things he’d wanted to happen less than for Felix to wake up, lucid, cuddled up to Locus. He wasn’t sure he’d live through it.

 

Siris snorted quietly. “You think he’ll remember any of this?”

 

“If there is any justice in the universe, he won’t,” Locus said quietly.

 

He was glad that neither Felix or Siris knew that he’d also woken to find his own hand threaded possessively through Felix’s hair. He was awake and lucid, and still not sure if he’d survive _that_.

 

“Look on the bright side; he won’t be able to chase you.”

 

“You’re forgetting his aptitude with knives.”

 

“Yeah, that’ll be a problem.”

 

Locus finally extricated himself from Felix, sliding out of bed with a heavy sigh. “It’s getting late. You should get back to your wife before she worries any more.”

 

Siris nodded and offered Locus a sympathetic smile. “I already called up a car. Sorry again that I’ve got to make him your problem; she’s going to be mad enough as it is without him banging around making it worse.

At least he won’t be high when he wakes up again.”

 

They both paused and stole a glance at Felix. “Probably,” Siris added quickly.

 

Locus shrugged. “He’s been my problem for a while now. I can handle it.”

 

“You sure? ‘Cause if he keeps petting you and calling you pretty, I’m pretty sure one of you is going to be dead in the next 24 hours.”

 

“Don’t-“

 

“Or married.”

 

As if summoned by the taunting grin Siris had accompanied the statement with, Felix woke abruptly; he rolled onto his side and vomited onto the floor.

 

“So much for cleaning,” Siris said, breaking into the silence between Felix’s ragged coughing.

 

Felix didn’t have the energy to be as murderous as they knew he’d want to be.

 

“Shut up Wu,” he gasped, “what happened? Where am I?”

 

Siris and Locus moved to stand shoulder to shoulder, exchanging a look of concern.

 

“Is he still…?"

 

“He said your name,” Locus said slowly, “so probably not.”

 

“What the fuck are you two talking about?” Felix hissed, punctuating the question by clapping a hand over his mouth as another wave of nausea tore through him.

 

Locus stepped forward, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re in a hotel room. I removed the bullet from your leg, and Siris took a few liberties with dispensing your painkillers. That’s probably why you’re vomiting.”

 

Siris winced. “Yeah. Sorry about that. There was a lot going on.”

 

“Great, I get shot and Wu takes the opportunity to poison me,” Felix said, leveling a menacing glare at Siris.

 

The gesture lost a lot of its threat when he doubled over again, retching helplessly.

 

Locus, taking care to avoid the mess on the floor, heaved Felix up and pulled Felix’s arm over his shoulders as he braced his waist. It would have been more convenient to just pick him up, but Locus knew it would entail far more bitching than he was in the mood to tolerate.

 

“Come on, let’s get out of here.”

 

Siris led them out to where the car was waiting outside their room door, throwing their supplies into the trunk and holding the door for Locus. He could hear their bickering from the room grow louder as they approached.

 

“Don’t put any weight on it-“

 

“You think I’m trying to?!”

 

“I think you’re not cooperating-“

 

Siris shut the door on both of them.

 

—

 

They were still at it- this time over Locus’ insistence that Felix keep drinking water- when Siris tried to speak over them.

 

“I’ll drop you guys off first. Gotta know where you’re going though.”

 

“What about your car?” Felix said.

 

Siris shrugged. “I was just going to tell Megan that you crashed it, put it in the shop for a few days. At least until I can get the dents out of it, and repaint it. It’ll kill two birds with one stone if you come around limping.”

 

Felix scowled. “Why are these excuses always my fault?”

 

Siris was about to mention that Megan had met Felix, and she wasn’t about to buy a story where Locus had crashed a car. Locus himself interrupted.

 

“Felix. Your apartment, or mine?”

 

Felix’s answering grin was shaky, but every bit as infuriating. “Whoa, Locs. Unusually forward of you.”

 

Locus bared his teeth in the kind of tight snarl Siris usually only saw moments before someone died. It did nothing to stop Siris from choking on his laughter as quietly as he could in the front of the car.

 

“Felix-“

 

Felix’s eyes flicked to Siris suspiciously; Siris didn’t usually encourage him riling Locus up like that. “Christ, take a joke. My apartment is nicer.”

 

Siris fed the driver an approximate address- not the real one, of course, but something close enough to walk to- and closed his eyes to whatever it was the two of them were talking about now.

 

He was going to tell Megan about _all of it_.

 

He didn’t care what kind of strange story he’d have to cook up to sell it. There was no way in hell he was going to deny her the chance to needle Locus about “being pretty” from now until the end of time.


End file.
